To No One
by sugarangelcookies
Summary: "The term hijack comes from an old English word that means 'to capture,' or even better, 'seize.' We believe it was chosen because the technique involves the use of tracker jacker venom, and the jack suggested hijack." The tale of Peeta's capture in the Capitol and later, his life in District 13, with a slight twist. Prequel to Unopened Letters, in Peeta's POV.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is a ****_prequel_**** to my story, Unopened Letters. While it is not necessary to read ****_Unopened Letters_****, it may help to further understand as we delve into this story. This story ****_will_**** contain abuse, as a warning. Please read with caution.**

* * *

Prologue

* * *

_"My dying wish. My promise. To keep him alive." _

* * *

I rather die than live in a world without Katniss. My thoughts are cliché, but entirely too true. Sometime in the next few days, I will die in this manmade arena but even then, I can only hope Katniss makes it out alive.

She's too stubborn. She _will not_ accept the fact that I _will_ die, and she _will_ live. She is too gallant, too noble. She wants to die a hero, not as the damsel. In this light, neither one of us is the hero or the damsel – in fact, we are all pawns, all victims in this cruel, mirthless game.

She wants to protect me, but I want to protect her. Which one of us will win in our own miniature battle? It's a game in a game, and there's no way out.

My thoughts are abruptly interrupted by Katniss. She takes my face in her hands and kisses me softly. _"Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight,"_ she whispers in my ear. Will she really?

Beetee and Finnick lead me near the force field. They're faster than me, but they still try to slow down so I can keep up. Their attempts to keep me alive are useless. I'll die, anyways.

When they reach the edge of the arena, I am still by the lightening tree. I see Finnick and Beetee whisper, waving their hands in complex motions. They look over and signal to me to stay there.

Are they planning some sort of conspiracy? My dying wish, my last desire is for Katniss to win. She will live without me. She is strong. She still has family and a will to live. She has Prim, Gale, and her mother. Who else cares about me besides Katniss? My brothers, they care, but they can easily to adjust to a new life without me. They never needed me. My father will, too. I was just another burden he had to care for since no one else did, and my mother, she never loved me, so her life would be better without me.

* * *

A shot of a cannon makes me jump. I enter a frenzy of panic. If Katniss died, I have been no use. In my hysteria, I hear footsteps. I snap my body around to face the other direction, and two figures are sneakily running towards me.

I clench the knife in my pocket. If I kill at least one of them, Katniss, if she was still alive, will have a better chance of making it out. I think of her promise. She must be alive.

Brutus sees me behind the tree and makes a running start. "Lover boy, you're going to die anyways. Might as well die by my hands," he grumbles as he approaches. Enobaria rushes past me and towards Beetee and Finnick. I'm in my own battle, and I cannot help others, so I don't bother helping. I would do more harm than help.

"I already killed Chaff, little baker boy, and he can actually _run_, so how long do you think you'll live?" Brutus taunts, flicking a spear dangerously close to my face. In the distance, I see Beetee and Finnick quickly glance at me, with worried eyes. "There's no hope now, Peeta. Your little _lover_ will die too, if she didn't already." The anger in my body boils. I stab him in the lower stomach. If he doesn't die instantly, he'll die by lack of blood.

He simply gapes at me, as I slowly back away, rethinking my actions. I turn away from his body, avoiding the blood dripping from his abdomen. I hear a wail of pain, and I immediately recognize it as Beetee's. The sky is dark now, and the only way to distinguish someone is by the slightly darker frame. Another set of two figures run again, a thicker, taller one that I name as Finnick dragging a smaller, limping one who I know is Beetee.

Whatever he was trying to carry out, Beetee had better have finished his plan.

_"Katniss!"_ I howl. _"Katniss!" _I am confused and angry. I just need Katniss to win.

Her response comes quickly. _"Peeta! Peeta! I'm here! Peeta!_" she screams.

I curse silently, under my breath. She's attracting hunters, and she _damn_ well knows it. _"I'm here! I'm here!"_ she calls again. _"Peeta!"_

_"Katniss!"_ I yell, attempting to draw them back to me. It's too late.

Another cannon booms, and I know for sure Brutus is now dead.

If Katniss survives, I know she'll have something to remember me by. She has the locket and the pearl. Is that enough? She will carry our legacy, I am sure of it. She will diminish the Games. She is strong enough for both of us. I _need_ her to make it out of this sadistic puzzle, once and for all.

* * *

In the distance, I see lightning strike the tree. I bite on my lower lip in anticipation. Beetee's plans better have damn worked. The darkness obscures my eyesight, but I do see the arena rupture into a bright, blinding blue light.

I'm thrown back to the ground, like a poor turtle on its back. I lay there, startled and shocked. Just as I find myself realizing that the arena is no more, the explosions appear.

The whole ground erupts, sprinkling bits of plant and dirt everywhere. Turned and tossed, the trees blaze up. The sky is pounding, bright lights blazing everywhere. I quickly recall them as _fireworks_ from the forced Capitol programs we forcibly watched. They are decorating our deaths, illustrating a flashy end to our lives, or perhaps the Capitol citizens are not nearly satisfied with the sudden, surprising ignition in the arena.

I question if Katniss is still alive, in the midst of the detonation.

I find a claw appearing by my side. Its metal talons scoop me up by from the bottom. I am silent and patient. I deserve any punishment I am about to go through. As long as Katniss is safe, I will lie content.

I close my eyes as the hovercraft swoops me up. The only thought that lingers in my mind is the fact that I really didn't see Katniss again at midnight, and instead, a horrific eruption greets us.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Old readers and new ones, I am happy you're here! As for old readers, I still have not rewritten the first few chapters of ****_Unopened Letters. _****As for new readers, I, again, strongly urge you to read the original on my profile, but for now, the story is rather self-explanatory. In the next several chapters, Peeta will be going to the Capitol and ****_will be_**** tortured, so please keep in mind of this. Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you have a great day!**

**Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with The Hunger Games, Scholatic Press, or Suzanne Collins, and my writing is merely for entertainment and practice. Any entire lines in italics are direct quotes from the novel. **


	2. Liars

Liars

* * *

_"All I can think of is Peeta, lying on a similar table somewhere, while they try to break him for information he doesn't even have."_

* * *

A shrill whistle bleats in my ear, startling me from my sleep. My head hangs loosely and rests on my stiff shoulder. I blink my eyes a few times to release some of the drowsiness diluting my mind. I find that my hands are tightly tied around a cold, metal chair.

Memories of the arena float back to me. I remember a fleeting goodbye to Katniss, the corpse of Brutus, and a rippling explosion.

I scan the room. The room is empty, except for me. The walls, floor, and door are metal, and a single light bulb dangles from the ceiling. I feel unsafe and nervous, being secured by locks and ropes and space.

My eyes quickly divert to a light knock on the door.

A low raspy voice greets me. "Well, aren't you going to tell me I can come in?"

I don't respond. I wait in silence. "Tell me to _come in_," the voice repeats firmly.

"C-come in," I stammer.

"Thank you," the voice replies, sadism leaking out of the speaker's tone.

* * *

In walks President Snow, tailored in a fine midnight black suit touched with an additional simple white rose.

"Good evening, Peeta," he welcomes, leering into my eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm g–," I begin to say, faltering mid-sentence. I slit my eyes slightly. What does he exactly want?

"Go on," he urges me. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you," I tell him. "How about you?"

"Oh, Peeta, I'm doing just fine. Thank you for asking," he chats amiably. He's preparing me like a game bird for dinner. He'll pamper me and treat me as if I'm _royalty_, and then he'll strike and kill.

In return, I give him a fake smile.

"So, are you in the mood for any snacks? I bet you're terribly hungry after all this," he pauses. "_Havoc_, may I say."

I shake my head. He raises his eyebrows. "Oh, really? I'll get some treats anyways. I know I'm in the mood for some nibbles."

He leaves the room and shuts the door securely behind him. I hear several locks click before his feet patter away.

What does he want? Why did he bring me here? Where's Katniss?

My heart paces at the thought of Katniss. I've hardly even _thought_ about her once since I woke up in God knows where. "Selfish," I mutter to myself. "I'm so fucking selfish."

I can only hope she's okay. She could be hurt, injured, or dead. I didn't complete my job. I'm alive and surviving, and Katniss could be gone by now. Inside, my heart screams and withers. I want to yell and destroy everything in my sight. I'm so weak, and I hate it. I hate the feeling of being helpless. I want control of my own life, but my chance is too far away.

* * *

As I enter an internal, fiery argument within myself, President Snow re-enters the room, holding a lavish silver tray piled with Capitol sweets, a pot of tea, and two cups. He slyly smirks at me.

Another man follows behind him, carrying a rather comfortable looking armchair and matching end table.

He plops down into the chair as soon as it's set down. "So, Peeta, before we get chatting, I'll get you a little more comfortable," he tells me.

He undoes the ropes strangling my wrists, and as soon as they're off, I let out a sigh of relief. He smiles at my little act of joy. I'm sure he'll take any bit of happiness I have in this place I can already identify as hell.

"Now, you can properly drink a cup of tea," he says. He carefully pours a small amount of tea in my cup. "Cream, sugar, or both?" he innocently asks.

I shake my head. I decide that the less words I utter out, the better. He hands me my cup. "Drink," he orders.

I obey him, to uphold any good reputation I have left. Even the Capitol tea is more luxurious than the tea at home, and it is simply tea.

"So, Peeta," he murmurs quietly. "Have you recollected any memories from your last _extravaganza_?"

I take a deep breath. Everything I say will have to nearly be damn perfect. I have to say something. If not, he'll manage to force it out of me anyways with unnecessary pain. He'll twist my words and show the public I'm a monster that I'm really not, but I must comply with his every command. His power is too strong to deny his wishes.

"I remember," I stutter. "The explosion, and then, I blacked out."

"I'm sure you remember more, Peeta," he sneers. "Remember anything your fellow tributes told you? A plan?"

"A plan?" I restate stupidly.

"Oh, I'm _sure_ there was a plan," he drawls. "Do you know the state of our Panem right now?"

I shake my head. He puts his hands behind his back and twists them in anticipation. "We're at _war_, Peeta. All because of some _stupid_, little plan some have cleverly put together."

"Where's Katniss?" I blurt out. As soon as the words float out of my mouth, I want to scream at my stupidity. God, I have to stay strong, and asking him about Katniss will show my weakness even more.

He cackles. His laughter reminds me of the devils in the stories they used to tell at the frugal sleepovers I attended as a child. "Katniss Everdeen?" he inquires. "I don't know where she is. We tried to grab her, but she was already gone. I bet she's safe, Peeta."

He's luring me with this information – misinformation, perhaps – but I can't stop myself from feeling thankful. Snow doesn't have Katniss, and she might be in a better place.

"Now, now, we've gone off on a tangent. I want you tell me any strayed whispers you've heard and remembered, anything that you might now about this obvious explosion. Of course, I know about the planning of merely _some_ of our little arena commotion. I know about the plans for the explosion that was to exclusively kill other tributes. What I _don't_ know is how they managed to glue all the pieces of the plan together – how to break the force field, how to get the hovercrafts to fly in, etcetera. This is where you come in," he murmurs firmly.

"I thought we were just off to kill the Careers. I knew I would be separated from some of the others, and I knew there would be chaos. I don't know anything else," I quietly respond.

"Peeta, you need to talk louder. It'll make you sound more confident," he mutters. "For now, you just sound like a liar, Peeta, and I don't know if you know already, but I don't like liars."


	3. Worse than Hell

Worse than Hell

* * *

_"Do I really want him dead? What I want…what I want is to have him back."_

* * *

Snow leaves me, quietly shutting the door. To my surprise, I hear no lock click behind him. Confused, I stare at the door, expecting only the worst.

Instead, two men clad in white Capitol police suits and a matching hat come marching in. They smoothly slide the handcuffs off my already sore wrists and escort me out of the room.

"Make one move to escape, Lover Boy, and any chance you might have to live will be gone," one grumbles. I nod quickly. Knowing the Capitol, the penalty could be worse than death.

They lead me into a cold and empty hallway, and then into an elevator. The elevator is surprisingly luxurious, clad with velvet seats, a shiny wood floor, a sparkling chandelier, and a multitude of mirrors on the sides.

We exit the elevator, go down another hallway and through another steel, locked door until we reach our destination.

Before roughly shoving me into a jail cell, I realize my new home was with three of my fellow victors.

It was a short hallway, designed with only four cells, each about twenty feet wide. The prison cells sat side by side, facing a cold, stone wall. With thick bars across the front with little space between and cement floors, ceilings, and wall, the cells are moderately suitable for life. A small wooden bed spread with a warm-looking duvet and pillow lay in the corner. In the corner directly across the bed sat a small divider, a porcelain toilet, and a compact metal sink enhanced with a bottle of lavender soap.

Even in the Capitol, the prison cells were rather lavish.

* * *

When the footsteps of the guards were no longer heard, a voice to the left of me speaks.

"Decided to join us now, Peeta," it drawls sarcastically.

"Johanna?" I question.

"Who else would it be? Katniss?" she mocks.

I clench my teeth in anger. I take a deep breath.

To my surprise, I hear another voice, this time from my right. "Stop it, Johanna," it retorts, rather calmly at that. "Peeta's going through some hard times."

"Aren't we all, Annie? Peeta doesn't get any slack just because he lost his little crush. Come _on_, I know for a fact we've been through worst hell than her," Johanna replies.

God, I want to punch Johanna.

"Who else is here?" I ask, keeping my temper down.

"Enobaria," Annie responds. "She's in the cell all the way down at the left."

"How long have you guys been here for?" I ask.

"Now, now, lover boy. You just got here. No need to get your panties in a wad and start asking questions like crazy," Johanna answers.

"Johanna, please. He _did_ just get here. He deserves to know a few answers. We all arrived yesterday," Annie notifies me.

I hear a camera buzz and whir within a few feet of me. We're never safe. They're always watching us – picking up on any miniscule details of a supposed plan, listening into low whispers from one to another. What did I expect of the Captiol?

"Will you all shut up for a moment?" another voice growls from the left. Enobaria. Why, all of all the tributes, was she picked up? She was a career – her district was the most loyal to the Capitol, so there was no reason for her to even be here, but then again, the Capitol was unfair and cruel. They played, toyed with you. They pretended to be on your side, to have good intentions, but they betrayed you, like always.

* * *

Where is she, where is Katniss? I send a silent prayer to a god I don't believe in. I can only hope she's okay, but there's not a place in the entirety of Panem where she could be safe.

Is she fighting? Is she with her family? Is she healing? Is she planning for a tactic for the rebellion? Is she thinking about me?

I can't lose her now. Captured and on the verge of death at any given moment, I just can't afford to lose her. I risked so much to save her, and if in the end, we both die, then everything was pointless.

I wait in constant fear for a guard, or worse, Snow, to barge in and take me away.

I want to scream, yell, screech out of frustration. I don't know of any plan for another rebellion. I don't know _anything_. They're convinced otherwise. They won't believe me. I've made myself known to them as the boy with the golden tongue, who can lie to a crowd of thousands. They'll go to any means to get the slightest detail that'll suggest that I know of it, and then they'll torture me. I listened to Snow to the best of my abilities, I played out my role as the star-crossed lover destined to die. I tried.

Once again, I was left out of the plan, and yet again, it was for protection. Whoever devised the plan, they must have known not to tell me because I was vulnerable and played a role in manipulating the Capitol citizens.

I'm tired of being left out, I'm simply sick of it. I want to fight. I'll take the punishment, whatever it is.

I quietly curse.

Katniss, I need her. The thought of her not being in the Capitol is barely consoling; she could even be a place worse than this nightmare.

But she's not here though, and I _just need to show_ that _I_ can survive.

I'm angry. I'm angry at the other tributes for not telling me of the plan, even if it was for the best. I'm angry with Snow, who simply won't admit defeat. I'm angry with Haymitch, who is probably drowning his sorrows in liquor rather than facing the real world. I'm even angry with Katniss, who I know would rather die than have me gone.

I'm living in a world worse than hell, and nothing seems okay anymore.


	4. A Simple Game

**Disclaimer: This chapter will be heavily filled with quotes from ****_Mockingjay_****. The quotes will be in italics, and are, of course, not mine, but Suzanne Collin's.**

* * *

A Simple Game

* * *

_"So it's almost entertaining to see Caesar Flickerman, the eternal host of the Hunger Games, with his painted face and sparkly suit, preparing to give an interview. Until the camera pulls back and I see that his guest is Peeta."_

* * *

Snow, he leaves me alone for a few days. I tend to keep to myself, making imaginary scenarios in my head about Katniss. I think about my family, my friends, and the world around me. I wonder if anyone _really_ misses me. I wonder if anyone felt my absence.

I develop somewhat of a routine, despite my ever-growing fears of an endless containment. I continue to wake up at four o'clock in the morning – an unbreakable habit from my days at the bakery. I sit in bed and ponder; it's too early in the morning to move around and make noise. Later, after I hear rustling from another cell, I use the bathroom. There's no privacy, so everything – everything – must be shared and embraced. I scratch a tally mark into the wall, representing the days I've been here.

Sometimes I cry, quietly and muffled. Most of the time, I dream about Katniss.

Annie cries nearly everyday, and I can't stand to say nothing, but I must. I live in terror that anything I say will be used against me.

I eat two meals a day, and the guards remind me of how damn grateful I am. "You know, you got off lucky," he smirks, handing me a bowl of gray, lumpy oatmeal. "Besides the food you've had in the Capitol, I bet you haven't had anything better."

I stifle an urge to scream at him.

I'm both lonely and alone.

* * *

Snow comes for me at six in the morning.

He – not a guard, not an assisant of his, him in the flesh – struts towards my cell, leans down as if he were talking to a small child, and whispers, "You're needed, Peeta."

I blink a few times. He unlocks the small door and firmly grasps me in the forearm.

"I said, you're needed, Peeta."

I nod my head. "Yes, sir."

Annie shoots me a concerned glance as I pass and mouth a quick _it's okay_ to her.

He leads me to _yet another_ empty room down the hallway.

"I'm going to have Caesar Flickerman interview you," he says promptly.

I scrunch up my eyebrows and sensing my confusion, he continues, "I need you to help, how do I say, clarify a few things."

"What if I don't?" I question.

He smirks. "Peeta Mellark," he says, lingering on the last syllable of my name, "What do you think will happen?"

I don't respond.

"You're going to have to behave, Mellark. Convince them with that _golden_ tongue of yours."

He whispers a few things in my ears; something about _a plan_, a _ceasefire_, a _punishment_.

I nod.

I feel like a traitor, like I'm being used. I wonder – what did I ever do that made me deserve this?

* * *

Several Capitol attendants usher me into my old changing room and prepare me for my interview.

They wash my face, clean my body, shave the stubble off of my jaw, and dress me in a fine blue suit with a silk white tie.

"It really compliments his eyes," one of the attendants murmurs to another.

I clench my teeth in anger. I've never really been more than just a simple toy, haven't I?

Caesar greets me as the attendants finish dusting their final touches of makeup on my face.

"Why hello, Peeta! I certainly am excited to interview you," he says, grinning.

He's unnatural, fake, and sends shivers down my spine.

"Hello, Caesar. I know I'm certainly excited to have the honor of being interviewed you, _again_."

He chortles. "Of course you are, Peeta. I'll see you in a few!"

I'm sick to my stomach.

* * *

I plop down into a white leather across from Caesar's. He orders me to swivel around in order to surprise the Capitol citizens with my appearance. I wonder if Katniss is watching me.

What will she think of me, if I lie to the entire country? What will she think of me, if I tell the truth?

What will happen after this?

Caesar signals for me to turn around after he greets the audience.

_"So…Peeta…welcome back,"_ he says, boldly, adjusting himself in his chair.

I force myself to smile. _"I bet you thought you'd done your last interview with me, Caesar." _

Lying is easy. Lying is okay. If I mess up, the only person who will be hurt will be me, and that's perfectly fine. As long as it's not Katniss, it's okay.

_"I confess, I did,"_ _says Caesar. "The night before the Quarter Quell…well, who ever thought we'd see you again?"_

I can feel a drop of sweat fall from my forehead. From the crowd, Snow gives me a wink. _"It wasn't part of my plan, that's for sure," _I tell him. I frown just the slightest bit. Perhaps I can convince that Katniss and I were innocent – that we were nothing more than just pawns in a chess game, like always.

He leans into me. _"I think it was clear to all of us what your plan was. To sacrifice yourself in the arena so that Katniss Everdeen and your child could survive." _

Snow damn well knows that the child was fake, but _shit_, this man – Caesar Flickerman – he can play his cards well.

_"That was it. Clear and simple," _I murmur. I trace my fingers slowly on the arm of the chair. _"But other people had plans as well." _

_"Why don't you tell us about that last night in the arena? Help us sort a few things out?"_

Caesar's been training with Snow, as well. God, the damn manipulator.

I nod slowly and take a deep breath. _"That last night…to tell you about that last night…well, first of all, you have to imagine how it felt in the arena," _he says slowly. _"It was like being an insect trapped under a bowl filled with steaming air. And all around you, jungle…green and alive and ticking. That giant clock ticking away your life. Every hour promising some new hour. You have to imagine that in the past two days, sixteen people have died – some of them defending you. At the rate things are going, the last eight will be dead by morning. Save one. The victor. And your plan is that it won't be you." _

I pray to a god that I don't know exists that I'm doing this right.

_"Once you're in the arena, the rest of the world becomes very distant. All the people and things you loved or cared about almost cease to exist. The pink sky and the monsters in the jungle and the tributes who want your blood become your final reality, the only one that ever mattered. As bad as it makes you feel, you're going to have to do some killing, because in the arena, you only get one wish. And it's very costly."_

Caesar comments, _"It costs your life." _

_"Oh no, It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people?" _I retort. _"It costs everything you are." _

_"Everything you are," _repeats Caesar in a hushed whisper.

The audience is silent – waiting on the edge of their seats, demanding to hear more. I linger out the peace, to build suspense. There is planning and coordination into speaking; it's not just a simple _game_.

And really, the funny thing is, is that I haven't told a single lie so far.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter should be coming out shortly, since it'll be more like a part two this chapter. Thank you ****_so much_**** for reading; I really appreciate it. Also, in unrelated news, I changed my Tumblr url to lesterful; the link is on my profile. Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you have a great day!**


	5. Living in a World of Lies

Living in a World of Lies

* * *

_"So you hold on to your wish. And that last night, yes, my wish was to save Katniss. But even without knowing about the rebels, it didn't feel right. Everything was too complicated. I found myself regretting I hadn't run off with her earlier in the day, as she suggested. But there was no getting out of it at that point," _I continue.

_"You were too caught up in Beetee's plan to electrify the salt lake," _remarks Caesar.

I feel anger simmer in my veins. I bite my lip in order to fully fledge out my frustrations. _"Too busy playing allies with the others. I should have never let them separate us! That's when I lost her," _I exclaim.

I'll play out the romance angle. I'm using Katniss, in the same way she used me, but only this time, I'm doing it for her own good, not for me.

Caesar adds, _"When you stayed at the lightning tree, and she and Johanna Mason took the coil of wire down to the water." _

_"I didn't want to," _I retort, face turning red with anger, from both his perception on the Games and the fact that I, after all these years, was _still a pawn_. _"But I couldn't argue with Beetee without indicating we were about to break away from the alliance." _I glanced at the camera, wondering if Beetee was watching this, what his reaction would be. _"When that wire was cut, everything just went insane. I can only remember bits and pieces. Trying to find her. Watching Brutus kill Chaff. Killing Brutus myself. I know she was calling my name. Then the lightning bolt hit the tree, and the force field around the arena…blew out."_

_"Katniss blew it out, Peeta. You've seen the footage," _Caesar comments, as if I didn't know, as if I were a thickheaded five-year old.

_"She didn't know what she was doing. None of us could follow Beetee's plan. You can see her trying to figure out what to do with that wire."_

_"All right. It just looks suspicious. As if she was part of the rebels' plan all along."_

The anger already quelled within me beings to boil. Caesar – he knew nothing. He never had to watch his neighbors die year after year, be forced out of his home, watch both allies and enemies of his die, be _honored_ for killing, and be having to forced into this bullshit entertainment game again, with an even less likelihood of surviving.

He was ignorant, and it infuriated me.

I stood up, squinted my eyes, and leaned towards him, so my hands were on the arms of his chair.

_"Really? And was it part of her plan for Johanna to nearly kill her? For that electric shock to paralyze her? To trigger the bombing?" _

I'm now at a full-fledged yell.

I continue, _"She didn't know, Caesar! Neither of us knew anything except that we were trying to keep each other alive!"_

He rests his hand on my chest for a moment and calmly replies, _"Okay, Peeta, I believe you." _

I want to carry on with my screaming. It's not enough. You _don't_ believe me; you just don't want to look bad on television, and because my screaming's not the sort of entertainment you'd want to watch.

I take a deep breath and mutter, _"Okay." _

Sitting back in my chair, I ruffle my nicely styled hair. I can practically hear the distraught gasps coming from my stylists in the sidelines.

Caesar waits, as if he was an eagle observing his prey. _"What about your mentor, Haymitch Abernathy?"_

"Do you want to bullshit on him too, Caesar?" I murmur quietly so only I can hear.

_"I don't know what Haymitch knew."_

Caesar raises his eyebrows slightly. _"Could he have been part of the conspiracy?"_

_"He never mentioned it."_

He urges me on. _"What does your heart tell you?"_

_"That I shouldn't have trusted him. That's all."_

Haymitch – my mentor for several years, I can't bear to think of how he would've responded to my answer. Perhaps he would've been mad, disappointed, or even, he might've expected it. We, Katniss and I, were unknowingly his pawns as well. He and Katniss promised not to lie to me anymore, to not hide anything, but he did. He played with us to get what he might've thought was for the better of Panem. He had some repercussions, of course.

_"We can stop now if you want," _Caesar tells me, patting my shoulder. He must've seen the way my teeth clenched, my eyebrows scrunched, and my eyes slightly narrowed.

_"Was there more to discuss?"_

_"I was going to ask your thoughts on the war, but if you're too upset…" _he starts.

_"Oh, I'm not too upset to answer that,"_ I say, taking a good look at the camera. _"I want everyone watching – whether you're on the Capitol or the rebel side – to stop for a moment and think about what this war could mean. For human beings. We almost went extinct fighting one another before. Now our numbers are even fewer. Our conditions more tenuous. Is this really what we want to do? Kill ourselves off completely? In the hopes that – what? Some decent species will inherit the smoing remains of the earth?"_

I nearly scoff at his reaction.

_"I don't really…I'm not sure if I'm following…"_ Caesar stammers out.

_"We can't fight one another, Caesar,"_ I clarify. _"There won't be enough of us left to keep going. If everybody doesn't lay down their weapons – and I mean, as if in __**very soon**__ – it's all over, anyway."_

_"So…you're calling for a cease-fire?"_ he questions.

_"Yes. I'm calling for a cease-fire. Now why don't we ask the guards to take me back to my quarters so I can build another hundred card houses?"_

He turns to the camera. _"All right. I think that wraps it up. So back to our regularly scheduled programming."_

The pit begins to play, and I see Snow in the sidelines squint at me. He makes a signal for me to talk to him.

I begrudgingly comply.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this heavily quoted section ends here! There will be a few more – with Caesar and Peeta's other interviews, but that's it for now, I believe. I'm really sorry for the late update, but hopefully in the future I'll be updating on at least a weekly basis. Also, as a reminder, I changed my url to lesterful; information is on my profile. Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a great day!**


	6. Repercussions

Repercussions

* * *

_"Another force to contend with. Another power player who has decided to use me as a piece in her games, although things never seem to go according to plan._

Snow put his hand under my chin and points it up.

"Don't be so grim, Peeta," he says. "There really is no reason to act this way. You may or may not have just saved our country from another possible war."

"It's inevitable," I retort. "And you know it. I knew it. Caesar knew it. We all knew it. The faces – the faces of the audience when I called for a ceasefire, you could see the surprise etched onto them."

"You can't prevent it," I tell him. "You can't."

"It's worth a shot," he replies. "Weren't you the one who never gave up, despite the odds? You used to be so gallant, so brave. Look at you now. You're desperate, lonely, and clinging onto anything you can find."

I scowl at him. "Says you. _Look at you_. Using mass murder as a source of entertainment, claiming it's simply used as a _lesson_. What is it now?"

"It was for good reason, Peeta," he says, squinting his eyes. "You don't understand what the repercussions would be if we did not."

"What repercussions? Letting people have their freedom?"

"You'll understand soon enough, Peeta. Everything has a consequence, and you'll soon enough find yours."

He smiles, an incredibly fake smile that crinkled the sides of his mouth and the corners of his eyes.

He snaps his fingers twice, and two security guards – the same ones who first released me into my prison cell – grab me by the arms.

They lead me, again, to my new quote unquote home.

* * *

As soon as they leave, all my new cellmates begin talking at once.

"Did Snow like torture you into saying that?" Johanna smirks.

"Peeta, did everything go okay? You were gone for a quite a bit," Annie comments.

"You did pretty well," Enorabia says.

"I can't say anything right now," I reply.

They shut up immediately; they all know why, of course.

* * *

Katniss – did Katniss watch the interview? What did she think? Did she think I was traitor? Did she agree? Did she disagree? What did she do? Does she hate me, hate me even more?

My stomach twists and contorts and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with too many thoughts and worries.

Of course she thought I was a traitor. I betrayed myself. I had to, but did that mere point make anything better? I suggested – in front of the entire nation – to end a war that could help free us once and for all.

This was our only chance, and if the rebels truly listened to me, everything would be gone. We would be succumbed to an even worse fate.

But they wouldn't listen to me. A voice nags at me still, that they would, and everything would be doomed, but they wouldn't have. They _couldn't_ have.

Katniss – she was too brave, too daring, too proud to let go of her chance.

Gale – he would've followed Katniss side by side, and he would die believing no matter what that the Capitol was always wrong, and they were.

Finnick – he'd do it for Annie. He'd do anything for Annie. He too knows what the Capitol has done – to him, to Annie, to everyone around him.

"It'll be okay," I murmur to myself. "Everything's going to be okay."

I did my job; I did what Snow asked. I may or may not have even went above his expectations. I may not have convinced anyone, but I did what he asked.

Snow, his appetite for control is insatiable. He would go to any limit to gain power. His rule is mercilessly.

"But it'll be okay. As long as Katniss is okay, you'll be okay," I tell myself.

* * *

Katniss.

I can't stop thinking about Katniss. She's my only hope, my only string in this world. I can't bear to lose her again. She'll fight, and I know she'll win. She's too good to lose.

We'll win.

There's more good in the world than bad.

Cinna, he grew up in a world that prized murder and sadism. He turned out as a person quite the opposite.

There will always be the power-hungry, the unsatisfied, but it'll get better.

I believe one day that a child of mine will walk free in the world, without a worry of the Games.

I'd rather go through it myself than for another person.

I'll prove myself to Katniss once and for all.


	7. Burn with Us

Burn with Us

* * *

_"Within seconds, a low-flying V-shaped formation of Capitol hoverplanes appear above us, and the bombs begin to fall."_

* * *

Snow orders his pitiful guards to install a television in front of each of our jail cells. That way, he says, we will be alert and always informed on the current events of the rebellion. His intentions are clear; Katniss is evidently the leader of the rebellion, and for now, his sadistic method of torturing is forcibly making me watch her live from afar. He was right, of course. The more I see Katniss, the more the pit in my stomach grows.

A few quiet days pass, each as boring as the last, filled with endless card stacking and pondering.

In the middle of the afternoon, suddenly, all four televisions are suddenly turned on, and the screen shows a bird's eye view of a dirty street with run down stores on either sides of the road engulfed in flames. As bombs drop from the sky, the civilians emit well over audible screams. Piles of miscellaneous scrap hold down civilians as others struggle to free them. The camera zooms on Katniss.

_Katniss_.

Another camera, held by a woman I can't seem to recognize, films her. I can't make out her words, but judging by her actions, I can tell she's recording a video in response to my propaganda from early on.

Her face flushes with redness, her body is sweaty, dirt streaks her cheeks, and her eyes glow with rage. She points to the struggling citizens around her and the sky crowded with Capitol planes. She's furious, and I can't help but think, _it was my fault_.

* * *

The red flashing _LIVE_ signal in the bottom right hand corner turns off as the screen changes to show Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman sitting a desk.

"Well, that was certainly a riot." Caesar chuckles. "Katniss, the girl on fire, definitely spread her flames today!"

"How about we watch that again? I'm sure everyone would love to hear what she really said," Claudius remarks.

"What an excellent idea!" Caesar replies.

The screen switches to a close up of Katniss.

_"Yes. I want to tell the rebels that I am alive. That I'm right here in District Eight, where the Capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women, and children. There will be no survivors. I want to tell people that if you think for one second the Capitol will treat us fairly if there's a cease-fire, you're deluding yourself. Because you known who they are and what they do. __**This**__ is what they do! And we must fight back." _

I wonder if Katniss knew if the interview was a scam, like many others in the past. I can't shake the feeling that this, Katniss' actions, were a result of the words I spoke. She wouldn't have blamed me though. She never has.

_"President Snow says he's sending us a message? Well, I have one for him. You can torture us and bomb us and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that?"_

She points to a plane bombing a wooden warehouse. Through the flames, the seal of the Capitol is plain.

_"Fire is catching!" _she shouts. _"And if we burn, you burn with us!"_

* * *

The screen flickers back to Caesar and Claudius.

"She's certainly determined for this rebellion to work," Claudius says. "Little does she know how much power the Capitol truly stores. To be honest, I feel a little bad for making her through go all of this."

I grit my teeth in anger. _A little bad?_ Even after watching twenty-three children die every year, another one condemned to certain lifetime psychological horrors, and a rebellion where even more are killed only made him feel the slightest of empathy, and even then only for Katniss' misfortune?

"This girl certainly has spirit, I got to give her that. I've never seen a victor with so much spunk before!"

Claudius laughs. "There was Johanna Mason, of course, but I suppose she was more frightening than Katniss."

From the cell over, I can hear Johanna's fingernails claw the wall in anger.

"All of our victors were special in their own way, but I mean, there was always something about Katniss," Caesar continues. "As if getting involved into a rather public romance wasn't enough!"

I clench my fists in both disgust and fury. Even with a budding war raging on, the highlight of the day was still the romance between Katniss and I.

"I can't wait to see how this plays out; her and her little pack of rebels against us. She knows what how it'll end up, but she still persists. The effort counts, I suppose."

A war was still a _game_ for them, after all. It didn't matter that the lives of both the civilians of the districts _and_ the citizens of the Capitol were at stake; but then again, they never cared much for anyone.

Caesar flashes his unnaturally white teeth at the camera. "That's all for today, then. See you tomorrow!"

The television is automatically turned off, and I am left to delve with my own thoughts in a rage of both anger and indignation.


End file.
